


bound

by zogratiscest



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal with a Devil, Established Relationship, Genocide, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zogratiscest/pseuds/zogratiscest
Summary: lumiere captures a devil within his five-leaf clover.
Relationships: Lemiel Silvamillion Clover/Licht, Lemiel Silvamillion Clover/Zagred
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	bound

In the end, Lumiere drains his mana so thoroughly he almost kills himself in the process.

He drains his mana until golden eyes meet his own once again, protected by feathered white lashes and glittering with all the light of the moon and stars over their heads. The fires are quelled and his own people are stumbling through the wreckage, offering healing magic where they can, patching wounds that can be patched.

Most of the elves do not die that night. Most of them live. Those most important to Licht survive through Lumiere’s own stubbornness, his own drive, his own mounting despair. The rage and hatred that war in his heart at the sight of his beloved on the ground— blood-drenched white wedding clothes, hair soaking in claret, eyes closed, Lumiere’s own light magic having struck him down— did its job, as all other emotions are wont to do.

With the last breath he could summon in the moment, Lumiere gave Secre one final command. One final request. One final favor, before he collapsed into Licht’s waiting arms.

That was the end, and this is the beginning, and Lumiere forges it with his own hands.

His eyes are closed against the warmth of the spring sun high overhead, his head cushioned by the thick, lush grass growing green and vibrant in the ashes of that night. His grimoire rests on his chest. Gold corrupted by black, four leaves corrupted by a fifth, with a hatred and viciousness contained within that only Lumiere could ever help to control.

And he still would have done the correct thing, if given the chance. He still would have chosen patience and virtue and forgiveness in the light of his own lover’s near-death— his heart, his soul, his husband, his Licht. Because there is no connection to be forged when one is forced, no way to bridge the gap between the two of them if he creates one in pain and blood and anger. But the devil resting within the pages of his grimoire said  _ no. _

So Lumiere chose the most difficult road to walk, no hesitation left to slow his steps.

He breathes in the scent of the wildflowers in this field. He listens to the sound of laughter in the distance, elf children running around the legs of their parents. Because Lumiere risked his life to save them, the elf clan accepted his place as Licht’s husband, as the father of his child. Just one child, because the other had not survived the massacre.

His grimoire throbs with hatred, with anger, but Lumiere only smiles and strokes his fingers delicately over the cover, warm with the light of the sun. “Why don’t you stop your struggling and enjoy the nice weather? I brought you out here so you could bask in it.”

_ Let me out of this cursed book! _ The voice is familiar. Strange, for a devil. Lumiere would have expected something deeper and raspier, something that made him think of the passing of ages, the darkness of shadows, the flames of hell.  _ This isn’t a game, human. _

Instead, the devil currently residing in his grimoire sounds like a petulant teenager.

“It’s  _ our _ book now, isn’t it? This is what you wanted.” Lumiere splays his hand over the cover, thumb brushing over the clover on its surface. The one that once symbolized his luck, the prosperity that would come in his life. Five leaves now. One for his devil.

_ I had no desire to be captured by some disgusting mortal. You should have died! You both should have! _ The ranting is familiar to him. It was the first thing to wake him from the days’ long slumber he needed to recover from all the fighting it took to save Licht.

“Maybe you should have tried harder if that was what you wanted to accomplish. This was failure on your part, not mine.” Lumiere chuckles softly and the devil in his head snarls. He can almost see the crimson eyes, the black teeth. “I could have killed you, you know. Maybe that would have been better, to you? Maybe you wanted to die at a human’s hands.”

_ I wanted my body back, and you reduced me to this existence, _ the devil snaps, restless as ever, like a caged beast roaming the corridors of Lumiere’s soul and looking for an exit.

There are none. Secre made sure of that. There will be no leaving the grimoire no matter how hard this devil tries, and when Lumiere passes on to the next life, the devil will disintegrate into nothingness along with his grimoire. The thought is comforting, that nothing will remain of either of them, that this dance will end with both partners sinking into the darkness together. That is better, to Lumiere, than this creature escaping into the world. A pity to be sure, because Lumiere never wanted it to end this way.

Enslaving anyone, enslaving anything, that goes against his very nature. But the devil left him no choice. Left him no other avenue than to tie their souls together so tightly that even Secre was mortified when Lumiere asked her for this one last, singular thing.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” Lumiere opens his eyes slowly, carefully, adjusting to the sunlight bright overhead. “Or are you forever a mystery to me?”

_ What would you do with my name, other than use it against me? _ And what follows is moody silence, and Lumiere laughs softly as he wraps both arms around his grimoire tightly.

It was ill-advised, of course, to trap the devil within these pages. But his grimoire was already corrupting and it took every ounce of strength and willpower he had left not to succumb and allow his body to be taken from him. Why him, he will never know. The devil has been silent when Lumiere questions him in such a way, and he supposes the words must sting in a way. Map out the entire line of thinking that led to such an exquisite loss, it was no wonder the devil despised him so much more than Lumiere thought he deserved.

But he still tried to do the right thing. He still tried to afford the devil a  _ relationship _ instead of the black chains that snaked around his limbs, around his throat, choking him and pinning him before Lumiere’s feet. Soft, too soft, Rhya and Ronne tell him later.

Yes, too soft. Soft enough to keep a devil nestled close to his heart rather than kill it outright, but Lumiere is not like that. He could never simply  _ do _ such a thing.

“Enjoy the day,” he says, and slips the grimoire back into the pouch at his waist before he stands and stretches. “I’m going to, to my heart’s content. Maybe one day you’ll behave enough for me to properly introduce you to those I hold most dear in my life.”

He spends most of his free time with the elves, because Lumiere may be a prince but Licht is a king, and his people need him more now than they ever did before. There were still many lives lost that night, many lives ended prematurely, because Lumiere and his people were less capable, less prepared. And still, he thinks, Fana saved more with the dying flames of her magic than they did, and he loves her for risking herself like that.

She sees him first, raising a hand and waving to him, and the others turn to see him approach. Most of the children go back to playing, but three of them wait, two with patience and the third giggling madly and making his heart beat just a little faster.

Licht is sitting in the grass, and their son reaches for Lumiere immediately. “Darling?”

“The same as always,” Lumiere answers, and Licht smiles bittersweetly as Lumiere comes to sit next to him. He doesn’t take the boy but instead draws both of them into his arms, leaning down to kiss the soft, small forehead and smiling at the bright giggles it earns.

Their son is perfect. Lumiere would have given up the entire world just to meet him.

“I suppose it can’t be helped. Perhaps one day, but it’s no concern of mine.” Licht turns just enough to lean their son against Lumiere’s chest, against where his heart beats proud and firm at the sight of his little family together. The baby looks up at him, Lumiere’s own blue eyes and Licht’s fluffy white hair. He’s going to break so many hearts one day.

“Have you been having a good day, little one?” Lumiere asks, and he kisses their baby’s forehead again, and again until the little one is clinging to his shirt and laughing.

Only Lumiere can feel the lash of hatred and unease deep in his soul, and he swallows it down as always as he turns to give Licht a proper kiss. The devil’s malcontent is as much a part of him now as his own bright and shining happiness; Lumiere promised to bear that burden for the both of them. For all of them, he would shoulder this responsibility.

“He’ll say his first word any day now.” Licht leans into his embrace, his head combing to rest against Lumiere’s shoulder. “I’m sure of that. What kind of magic will he have?”

“Who knows? Perhaps one of ours. Perhaps Tetia’s. Perhaps something else entirely.” Lumiere likes to think of that, though. The future where his son will grow and flourish and have a magic to call his own, the future where he will lead the elves and humans together.

This child is blessed, and Lumiere will be there to protect him until he can shield himself.

Small, muffled footsteps draw his eyes to the two children who waited for him, who approach him with a timidity he knows was attached to him long before he received his grimoire. Patolli and Ratri have no one now. Despite everyone’s best efforts, their parents had died in the onslaught of Lumiere’s mimicked magic, and he hates that for them.

He hates that something like his magic, that he’s trained so hard to use simply to protect others, will bear such a negative memory in the minds of these young elves.

“What do you  _ do _ when you lay down with your grimoire?” Ratri asks him. He speaks as though the presence buried in the pages does not strike fear in him or his cousin, though Lumiere remembers their ashen faces when he explained the truth to the elves.

“Ratri,” Licht says softly, a warning, an urge, but Lumiere strokes his spine until he quiets.

It would do him no good to remain quiet, would it? Hiding the truth from the people who almost died because of him, because of his grimoire, would only make it seem as though he has something worth hiding. And all Lumiere has for them is the truth, and the promise that with this darkness locked within his heart, he will protect them successfully. What more trouble can a devil be, when Lumiere has already defeated and captured one?

“I talk to him.” Lumiere retrieves his grimoire and offers it, the black cover so starkly dark against his skin, against the white of Ratri’s small hand as he reaches out to touch the edge of the pages. “He can speak, and he can hear me. Bad at conversation, though.”

_ That should be the least of your concern, arrogant brat, _ the devil spits at him, and Lumiere only smiles as Ratri takes his hand away, as if he could hear that voice.

But he knows no one else can. Licht would have told him by now if it was possible.

Unlike his cousin, Patolli is fearless. He takes the grimoire with both hands and Lumiere feels the unease, the way the devil shudders in response at someone else handling his current prison. “And he can’t get out unless you let him, right? He’s stuck in here forever.”

“Yes, that’s right, Patolli.” Lumiere smiles gently as the boy turns the book over and over in his hands, liquid golden eyes fixed on it before he looks at Lumiere once again.

Since the boys have nowhere else to go and Lumiere is the one responsible for them being orphaned at such young ages, he and Licht have been looking after them. Rhya and Ronne assist too, of course, and so do Fana and Vetto, and really it feels like one big family rather than anything else. Sometimes Secre and Tetia will take them and the baby so he and Licht can have a moment alone, but Lumiere wants less of that now.

The warmth of the elves is an acceptance and tenderness he would never turn away.

“He doesn’t seem so scary if  _ that’s _ all you have to do,” Patolli says, and Lumiere ignores the quiver in his voice kindly. He’s trying so hard to be brave in the face of everything that has happened to him. “Does he ever say anything interesting? Or is he just rude all the time?”

_ Let me speak to him and I’ll answer his question directly, _ the devil spits at him.

Lumiere laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid he’s not one for divulging secrets of the underworld to me. Maybe if he learns to play nicely with others, we can have a proper talk, but for now he’s simply unhappy about his lot in life and he tells me about it.”

_ As if I would ever tell you anything worth knowing. _ Of course not. Lumiere expected that.

Patolli passes the grimoire back to him and then reaches for the baby, and Lumiere lets the boy take his son. He trusts Patolli and Ratri implicitly, because they’re family now, too. “Well, you can keep the gross devil, and I’m going to play with the baby.”

Licht touches the weathered cover as the boys take the baby over to the patch of flowers they were playing in a moment before, Patolli balancing him as easily as if it was his own child. They’re good boys, pure hearted and sweeter than honey, and Lumiere loves them both so much it makes his heart ache. Had loved them the moment he met them, peeking out from behind their mothers’ backs when he came to introduce himself. It was important to him, then, that all the elves know him and trust him. He would marry their king, soon.

That was back when their children, their twins, were still hidden away in Licht’s womb. When he wasn’t showing enough to be visibly pregnant, when the only way anyone would have known is if they were told. And they still waited until there was enough of a swell there for Lumiere to rest his hand on in those early mornings when it was just the two of them, wrapped in the twilight, listening to the birds wake up from their slumber.

“Does it hurt you, to have him there?” Licht strokes his fingers along the spine of the grimoire and Lumiere feels the shudder deep down in his gut. “Does  _ he _ hurt you?”

Lumiere shakes his head. “He can be unpleasant to listen to, but he’s incapable of doing any serious harm to me. He lost his chance to do so when I defeated him.”

The chance, the risk, the gamble of a battle when Lumiere was just back on his feet, just strong enough to stand properly. Secre urged him not to but he had to do it. For Licht, for their living child, for the elves, his own people. His family, his citizens, the country itself. To stand against the tidal wave of darkness that threatened to drown him unless he drained the black ocean dry and gave the devil one final chance to find any redemption.

And he chose to let Lumiere chain him to the bottom of that wretched sea instead.

“His mana stores are useful in battle, and his magic’s useful, too. Because of the contract, he can’t stop me from using it as I see fit now.” Lumiere takes the grimoire and Licht nods, leaning against him again, though his eyes are still on the book. “Rest easy, beloved. He’s never going to be able to escape, and when I die, he’ll die with me.”

_ Are you ever going to tell him?  _ The devil presses at his ribcage, at his heart, and Lumiere tucks the grimoire back into its pouch as he wraps his arms around Licht and kisses his elf on the forehead, the cheek, listening to his soft giggles.  _ The two of you won’t meet in the afterlife, human. I’ll die with you, but it’s you who will be trapped with me. _

For eternity, Lumiere thinks, and the devil snarls at him, at the situation they’re caught in.

_ You could come with us, you know, _ Lumiere says to that dark voice trapped within his heart, and the devil spits at him again. Disgusted by him.  _ You don’t have to live such a wretched existence, do you? You’ll never escape. You might as well use this time to atone. _

_ I don’t regret anything I did, and I never will, _ the devil retorts.  _ And when you die, I’ll snuff out your light and drag you down into the dark and keep you there forever. _

Lumiere smiles against Licht’s temple.  _ And I’ll let you. Because it’s my chains you wear. _

The silence in their connection has him leaning back into the grass with Licht curled against his chest, his hand loosely tangled in soft white hair as he drinks in the warmth of the sunlight. He can hear the boys laughing from here, can hear Rhya and Ronne softly conversing, the almost-purr of satisfaction Vetto makes when Fana strokes his hair. For once, everything in the world is right and perfect and beautiful, and Lumiere is glad.

_ Zagred, _ the devil tells him in the quiet, and Lumiere’s smile widens. Zagred it is, then.

**Author's Note:**

> i love shipping zagred with lumiere and licht lmfao


End file.
